Shadows of Young Love
by fragrantfields
Summary: Seeing a young couple slip away gets Saul and Ellen waxing nostalgic for what they never had-the heady feeling of being young and in love. But maybe there was a way... A/U, takes place in the 'verse of New In Town's Falcon's Rest, a small Twelve Colonies expat community in North Dakota, circa 1880


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Written for **bsg_kink** 's theme of "time" from the prompt "Saul/Ellen, they used to be so young"  
Takes place in the 'verse of New In Town's Falcon's Rest, a small Twelve Colonies expat community on the outskirts of Deadwood, circa 1880

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They hadn't practiced projection in ages, but the sight of the young couple stealing away from the summer barn dance to kiss and grope in the shadows brought back…not memories, really, but a beat of melancholia for what they'd never had.

Saul stopped Ellen from going to the front of their home, pulling her around to the back, to the dark grassy space between their workshop and house. If they were going to do this, it'd be in the soft embrace of Mother Earth 2.0, under the light of her single moon.

"Hope it's not too much of a challenge, imagining me as a young man," he said gruffly. Not that he regretted coming to consciousness fully grown, but he'd taken so much battering since. Guilt raked through him…Ellen had taken so much more, too much of it because of him.

"No…no, I think I've got it." She nestled into his arms, her breath light against the side of his neck.

At first he thought they'd lost the skill. They were still in Falcon's Rest, he could see the outlines of familiar buildings and the light flickering from the town center.

Then he looked down at his wife.

"Gods, you're—" For the first time in ages Saul Tigh was at a loss for words. Ellen was still Ellen, but her features were softer, not even a hint of smile lines at the corner of her eyes. Her hair spilled over his arm, thick waves tumbling onto the grass, longer and more careless than he'd ever seen.

"Saul Tigh, you should see yourself." Her artless grin widened as she ran her fingers through his thick head of ginger hair. He could feel taut muscle under smooth skin, their bodies almost alien without the familiar hints of softness at belly and hip. They were young, and strong, and nothing ached or echoed damage.

Centuries of practiced touch fell away, and the first kiss was awkward at best, positioning of noses and shy placement of hands. Sensation and instinct set their course, and the sweet strangeness of her tongue parting his lips for their first deep kiss sent a shockwave through his body, turning his shaft to stone.

He could have stayed like this for hours, exploring the silk of her mouth…then the pebbling of her nipple under his palm suggested other kinds of kisses. He moved down, sucking the tip, then the fullness of her breast as she arched under him, groaning into the night air.

His fingers were clumsy, and he wondered if he would have been this inept as a horny young man with his first girl. Then Ellen, inexperienced but obviously still keenly aware of her body, moved against him, her hips guiding his fingers to the rhythm she wanted. The heat and wetness of her sent his mind reeling, and he almost lost it right then, imagining himself balls-deep in her lush center.

"Are we virgins?" he whispered against her ear, marveling at the tight channel gripping his finger.

"Close to it. Some forgettable fumbling with the wrong people." She smiled and the old Ellen was there for a second as she closed her palm over him, giving him a throaty chuckle as he jumped.

Maybe it was their eons together peeking through the projection, but he preferred to think of it as they always would have felt made for each other. He stroked himself against her until she was begging for him. He'd thought nothing could feel as good as that, her slickness against the head of his cock…then she was coming under him, against him, thighs shaking and her teeth against her fist. She was still shuddering when he slowly eased into her, a slow gentle glide light-years different from their familiar practiced teasing, their pounding coupling.

Saul had never felt anything so sweet as that first realization: _this is how two lovers fit together_. It was his last coherent thought as his youthful projection took control, and they clumsily, frantically rocked and bucked together, each thrust adding sparks to the supernova expanding behind his eyes. Ellen's cry of climax held a note of surprise, and he felt a ridiculous pride for a second before his own orgasm took him, toes clenching into the grass, and the world faded into black.

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The black flickered, and he realized he was seeing one-eyed again. Raising up on one elbow, he looked down at his wife, the familiar planes and furrows back in place. Her fingers caressed his scalp as if she were still playing with ample ginger hair.

"What'd you think?" He forced a casual tone. He hoped he wouldn't seem lesser, compared to his imagined younger self.

"I like having that as our history, Saul. I want to remember how we could have been together if we'd ever been young." She slipped a hand between the buttons of his shirt and he could feel himself stiffening against her thigh.

"But there's a big, soft bed waiting for us in the here-and-now, just inside and up those stairs." She rose and held out her hand, pulling him firmly, happily back into the present. He was more than willing to follow her lead. It felt like old times; it felt perfect.


End file.
